


Sides of a Coin

by OneLetteredWonder



Series: Infatuation [9]
Category: 2P Hetalia - Fandom, Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: 1p2p - Freeform, 2P, Fluff, Infatuation Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-06
Updated: 2016-08-06
Packaged: 2018-07-29 19:14:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7696069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneLetteredWonder/pseuds/OneLetteredWonder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ion and Ivan have been spending time together far longer than any of the others. It's just easy being with each other, nothing more, nothing less. There's no need for change, not that they would want to in the first place.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ion

Ion scribbles words on the page hastily, taking down diligent notes to the meeting, though somehow making it look effortless. His mind processes the logistics easy, like breathing, it comes naturally to him to understand what is going on. He's spent years and decades studying and learning. Whatever they are talking about he knows solutions and answer to all the problems, at least involving himself.

Even if the other countries did ask him, they probably wouldn't listen, opting to fight amongst themselves for different problems, a past time he will absolutely refuse to be involved in. He is not a fighter and will avoid doing so for as long as he can stand to. Maybe the others think him odd for being a pacifist in the world they came from, but he doesn't care. He's sure the expression on his face portrays that message.

It's not his fault he has what Al has rightfully dubbed 'resting bitch face'. He's not entirely too sure on how to react to that description, all he knows is that he can't properly convey his emotions through facial expressions to disprove the American. It doesn't work like that for him. So he takes rigorous notes with a deadpan scowl on his face because that's the only look he has. The only item ruining the picture perfect image of him being a studious scholar in his rightful serious element is the pen in his hand.

Bold green with a flowery end at the top makes his otherwise sharp writing looking somewhat highschoolish with the dark green ink. Truthfully, he really likes the pen, but most would never guess that from the look on his face. It writes well enough and doesn't smudge when his hand passes over it, a rarity amongst pens. It's also sturdy enough to withstand his forceful pressing on the paper. Really, one of the better presents he has received from Ivan over the years.

Ion has an idea what kind of expression is on his counterpart's face but he glances over just to be sure he is right. Ivan is resting his elbows on the table in front of them, his chin in his hands and smile on his face. How real that smile is Ion can barely tell, on the smallest twitch in Ivan's face tips him off that this one is just a little forced.

He's been studying Ivan since they first met. When the otherworldly England made the flub of creating a connection between the two worlds, Ion's cuiosity took hold and he very nearly felt excited to meet his counterpart. He lost his ability to speak properly when he caught sight of Ivan's easy smiling face. It struck him odd how naturally Ivan could smile with no reason to, or at all for that matter. His own facial range very dull it made sense Ivan could have such carefree ability to do just the opposite.

He won't deny that Ivan talking to him openly made him somewhat happy. Most tended to stay away from him because of his outward cold exterior, but Ivan conversed nicely with him despite the odd threat, seemingly enjoying his presence, something new on it's own. Frankly Ion enjoyed Ivan's company as well. The only time he ever feels anger at his counterpart is when Ivan expresses his cruelty almost as easy as the smile on his face. Something about the way Ivan talks about control and inflicting pain is a surge of a reminder that they are opposites, though it has been some time since he's heard such threats come from the other.

Ion is momentarily distracted from the meeting when Ivan notices him staring, turning his head and giggling softly. Ion plainly turns back to the speakers, not at all embarrassed by being caught. It's not the first time, and it won't be the last either. He's oddly fascinated by Ivan's smile, always wondering which one is the true one and which one hides the dark thoughts his counterpart possess.

Of course at first he thought them all to be real and true. He eventually picked up on the signals from the other nations near Ivan that the smile didn't always mean good things. He started watching more carefully, noticing the small twitch Ivan gives out when he's not entirely pleased and faking just a little too much. The day he saw a true smile come to his counterpart's face had been one of the most intriguing days of his long life.

It had been an accident he saw it in the first place. He forgot his old pen in the meeting room and went to retrieve it. When he came back into the hall he saw Ivan talking with the France and America from his own world. Those other two didn't seem to be bothered by Ivan's somewhat intimidating nature or his possible snapping tendencies. They joked around and got Ivan to laugh gently into his hand, a different sound from the typical giggle he lets out.

The differences to Ion stood startling clear as he stood there and stared until they left the hall without ever even noticing him. The smile on his counterpart's face didn't twitch in that subtle annoyance kind of way, but also didn't reach as high as the fake one he usually wears. It's gentler, softer, as is his true laugh, if him covering his face is anything to go by he's shy about. Ion felt his heart pumping in his chest, hoping it wouldn't fall out and make a mess.

He made a point to notice the differences in Ivan's true and fake expressions. At first he did feel embarrassed by being caught when Ivan saw him looking, but as time went on, it became almost natural to just take a moment to examine his counterpart. It helps that the gentle smile Ivan gives to him is one of the few real ones. Ion feels oddly blessed to be on the receiving end of those more often than not.

When the meeting finally ends, Ion puts his things away meticulously, every paper in it's proper spot. He pauses momentarily at the gentle tug on his dark suit sleeve. He peers down at Ivan who blinks up at him. Ion puts his briefcase back on the table and waits patiently. Ivan giggles softly and puts his work away much slower. When he stands ready to leave, Ion walks right next to him quietly on the way back to the hotel.

Ion isn't one for saying much, or anything at all really. He doesn't feel the need to speak unless it is important. He says nothing as Ivan follows him back to his own hotel room and takes a seat in one of the chairs inside. He places two mugs in the microwave, tea leaves set aside for when the water is warmed. He puts his briefcase away and removes his suit coat to not get it winkled, taking Ivan's from his too. When the water is heated, he carefully makes the tea for the proper time, handing Ivan a mug on his way to take a seat outside on the tiny hotel balcony.

Ivan hums to himself and follows, tracing his finger's over the intricate floral pattern on the mug, and placing his chair right next to Ion's. Ion watches him for a second. The mugs they are using came from Ivan in the first place, another one of the gifts he received over the years.

While he might not be one for displays of affection, Ivan has no such boundary. The gifts started appearing on his doorstep just a decade or two ago. Small trinkets and treasures at first, all with a small note in Ivan's handwriting saying 'made me think of you'. Sparse and small, they made him sit and stare for minutes as to why. The reason eluded him, but made him unbearably happy. When the items began to grow in number, he bought a special box, one with a flower painted on top to fit the theme to his collection.

When Ivan sent him actual sunflowers, he shook taking them from the delivery person. He hadn't received actual flowers in years, and with the knowledge they are Ivan's favorite kind made them seem more special in their giving. He's never asked why Ivan sends him tiny trifles, most flower patterned, but he's nearly sure he knows why.

There's something relaxing about sitting with his counterpart in silence. Ion holds his mug in his lap, watching Ivan hold his mug to his face to take in the warmth of the tea inside. There's a small smile on his face, a natural one this time and it makes him proud to know he can put that smile there. Without a second thought he holds out his hand. Ivan laughs gently and takes it softly. It's not a serious hold, just lightly grasped together, but it feels nice. Ivan's hands are cold and it cools down his heated skin.

Though Ion hasn't put too much thought into it, not actually knowing how to go about thinking of such a thing, he feels connected to his counterpart in a different kind of way than just them being of the same nation. This interaction between them has been going on for many years, even before any other nation started to admit to themselves other feelings for their counterparts. Maybe it is a kind of love he feels, but he doesn't know enough to say for sure. Maybe Ivan doesn't either.

When it starts to get dark Ion takes their mugs to the bathroom sink to wash them out so the tea doesn't stain the bottom. Ivan stands by the doorway waiting for him to let him out in a spoiled child kind of way. Ion would never kick him out, but it is Ivan that decides when he leaves. He comes closer and places a hand on the door handle only to stop when Ivan drops his head to his shoulder. He nuzzles softly into his neck and Ion lets his hand fall from the handle to interlace his fingers with Ivan's in the gentlest way.

He has to remember to breathe in a controlled manner. Affection is not his strong suit and he swears a small shade of pink reaches his cheeks. Ivan pulls back and smiles at him, giggling gently, and exits the room. The door clicks shut and Ion is left staring at the beige color with a deadpan look on his face though his thoughts are cluttered and jumbled.

Sure he and Ivan had small romantic styled interactions but nothing resembling cuddling before. He runs a hand through his hair, walking backwards to fall onto the bed provided for him. He doesn't sleep. Instead he takes a book out his bag, admittedly one Ivan gave him, and pries it open to the page he left off on. He won't sleep for another few hours, not with his mind buzzing.


	2. Ivan

Ivan turns his head this way and that in the mirror, looking at the lack of expression on his face. He plasters a smile on, watching it, making sure it looks as real as he can manage. The corner of his lips twitch and he lets the expression drop to a small pout. He pokes at his cheek in annoyance, willing it to not let out an involuntary reaction. He tries again, this time getting the smile to last longer before another twitch happens. With a dramatic sigh he leaves the mirror behind.

How long he's been faking his expression he's not sure but the reactions are easy now. It's simple to think about the right face and put it on. Carefully he hums to himself, thinking happy thoughts to distract him for the day on his lone walk down to the meeting hall. It's not that he can't have a normal reaction, a normal smile, the fake ones come out to make himself seem less scary. He hopes they make him less scary. What an awful feel that would be if they made him more scary.

He takes a seat in the chair next to his usual one. Typically Ion sits in the chair he has deemed his but he has an idea for today and seeing it not followed through would be sad. He rests his head in his hands as the rest of the nations come in, his eyes glancing over them all as they mill in. He doesn't hate them, no, not at all. There is just something in the way they shy away from him though that makes him really want to make them afraid. Give them a reason to truly fear him.

The smile on his face drops slightly as Francis enters the room, talking softly with his counterpart. Francis is one of the few people Ivan can truly stand on a regular basis. The Frenchman doesn't bother to be afraid of him, even offering to show him around his country from time to time. Then of course there is the loud American who is too brash to be openly afraid of Ivan even on a bad day. Ivan laughs softly to himself, raising a hand to cover his smile.

Of course there is Ion. Meeting his counterpart had been an exhilarating experience. Maybe just at first Ivan wanted to terrify the other, seeing the kind of fun expressions they could make on their face. He didn't get that. No, Ion had a stoney expression the whole time, and yet never backed away, stayed, listened, and talked back like Ivan hadn't been trying to scare him into submission. Which he may have been trying to do.

His smile slips down to a neutral face as his thoughts begin to unravel inside him. Ion is a confusing person to him. No one else willingly lets him come and go as he pleases. Not a lot are willing to hold actual conversation with him. Not that he and Ion talk a lot, but even so the silence is comfortable in a new way. He can be alone, and yet not be lonely.

When Ion finally shows up he doesn't even bat an eyelash at Ivan changing their seat positions, simply taking a seat and getting out his paperwork and pen. Ivan giggles lightly at seeing it in his hand. He's glad his gift is going to good use. He's lost count of how many things he's sent his counterpart, never wondering if they are being put to good use or not until seeing one of the trinkets on Ion's person.

The gift giving started randomly, just a spur of the moment whim if he's being honest and one that was not very well thought through. The small button shaped like a sunflower did somehow remind him of Ion. He didn't bother with wondering how Ion handled receiving the gift, just felt like it would be the right thing to do. He saw Ion wearing it, sewn into the inside of his suit, just a meeting later. He can still remember the elation he felt seeing his gift welcomed so easily.

So he sent more. Each one displayed the next meeting. Still he didn't know why Ion accepted them so easily, but he really didn't care. Anything and everything he saw that he decided he wanted to send, he picked up and stowed away for another day. He's been doing it for years now.

He's not thought about it in depth, and he's very nearly certain Ion hasn't either, but he knows there are feelings just at the surface for his counterpart. What they are and what they mean he doesn't want to bother to find out, finding the thinking to be boring and unneeded. As long as Ion will keep letting him come over for a cup of whatever warm beverage he has to offer and accepting the odd ended flower themed gifts, he's perfectly content.

He blinks innocently when Ion looks at him, studying him for a moment before turning back to his work. What his counterpart looks for when he stares Ivan isn't sure, but if he can have his counterpart's attention in a simple way, he doesn't mind. He reaches under the table to gently lace his fingers in a light grip with Ion's. He giggles softly, covering his mouth with a hand when Ion jerks at the sudden action.

It takes a moment of heavy breathing for Ion to continue on with his note taking, his non-dominant hand busy trying not to clench to tightly on Ivan's. That's another thing that makes Ivan pause and look down at the easy hold his hand is in. Never has any interaction between him and Ion been rough or strong. Every last bit of it has been gentle and soft. A welcome change in his opinion.

Throughout the meeting Ivan keeps Ion's hand to him, letting go with a small pout when his counterpart needs it for some reason or another but always taking it back once he's done, smiling softly when Ion willingly places their hands back together as if they have done it for years before. He's known about his slight feelings for Ion for a long time, longer than the others he's sure. He's not the kind to let his emotions fester without acknowledging them at least. Why he has never let such a thing flourish before skips his mind.

He glances down at their lightly interlaced fingers, the smile on his face turning to something more real. He really does like the way Ion's hand feels with his. One of the few times they actually held hands, or touched in general, Ivan was mesmerized by the warmth his counterpart radiated. His skin has always been cold, a testament to the cold climate he comes from. But Ion's skin has a warm twinge to it that makes him want to be close to him at all times. There's a small pounding in his chest as the a memory comes back to him.

"Your hand feels nice," Such a simple compliment that Ion may have never meant to be a compliment. His counterpart had the back of his hand pressed to his cheek, his eyes closed as if he had to take a moment to enjoy the feel of Ivan's skin next to his. He's not sure what kind of expression he wore at that time, probably something like shock.

Ivan peeks at Ion to find him looking back already. Again his heart pounds and he vaguely hopes it doesn't fall out of his chest for that would be a mess. The pounding doesn't stop as easily as he wishes as Ion keeps staring at him. Ivan tilt his head in question, not saying a word to not disturb the meeting. Ion opens his mouth as if to say something but thinks better of it and closes it again, content with just watching Ivan for a moment longer. A moment longer that is until Ivan leans closer to him and places a small kiss on his cheek.

The giggles come before he can stop them at seeing the deadpan look on Ion's face and yet accompanied by a tinge of red to his cheeks. Even still his counterpat's facial expression has no change. He continues to giggle until warm lips press to his cheek as well. He blinks wide eyed at Ion doing his hardest to focus on his notes and not the ever so slight scowl of embarrassment on his face.

He hums happily to himself quietly, maybe just holding Ion's hand a small bit tighter. The rest of the meeting passes slowly, his smile twitching every so often and the annoying ones until it is called to an end. Instead of packing up right away like he usually does, Ion sits still, not removing his hand from Ivan's either. Not until most of the other nations are gone does a change happen.

"Is it the same for you?" Ion asks quietly, lifting his eyes up to stare like he always does. Ivan giggles and shrugs his shoulders.

"What are we talking about Iony?" Ivan rests an elbow on the table, letting his head fall into it but still keeping Ion's hand in his. His counterpart sighs and looks away, trying to get his thoughts in order to form the right words to say. Instead he makes the hold of his hand tighter. Ivan hums again and the smile he's worked so hard for easily falls away to something neutral as he keeps eye contact with Ion.

"I like this," He says quietly. Ion peeks up once more, a small twitch coming from the corners of his laughs lightly, covering his mouth with his hand. Ion releases a sigh of relief by the sound and finally stands up to pack up his things. Ivan follows suit.

The walk back is different this time. Ivan's hand is warmer than it has been in years with Ion lightly holding onto it. It's one of his favorite things about his counterpart. It took some coaxing and some mild threats to get the answer out of him, but Ion confessed forest fires being a natural part of his climate, making his skin really warm. Ivan felt jealous at first, twitching in annoyance at his own skin being so cold. He clenches his teeth in a seething anger over the snowy tundra that buried him two feet under.

Ion did quell those feelings easily enough. He seemed to make that a habit, calming Ivan's spikes of emotion before they truly manifested into something wild. His smile slips off, rubbing gently at his cheek for the sore muscles there. He knows most of the others are afraid of him. He knows he has a tendency to snap even before he realizes it himself sometimes. There are very few he feels truly comfortable around to let himself relax and not worry about breaking something.

He giggles suddenly and grips Ion's hand just a hint tighter, nothing more than a gentle squeeze that Ion doesn't seem to mind in the slightest, the faintest shade of pink going to his cheeks which only serves to make Ivan giggle more. Ion's lack of facial expression's doesn't bother him. If anything it only makes it more fun for him to try and make his counterpart feel enough to find the expression changing.

It's a small step to change his path to walk just the smallest next to Ion, now letting their arms touch more fully. He can feel his own blush covering his cheeks as he glances away, nearly embarrassed, with a small smile on his face. He hears Ion sigh next to him as they continue their walk up. He follows Ion to his room, happily shrugging off his jacket for Ion to take and hang up. He waits patiently for a cup of tea then joins his counterpart outside. He recognizes the book Ion is halfway through easily.

"When did you start reading that?" He asks quietly. Ion lets out a huff and closes his eyes. Here Ivan notices the small bags resting under his eyes. He blinks slowly when Ion looks at him, a vague mask of tired over his features. Ivan giggles lightly and takes one of Ion's hands, kissing the palm of it sweetly then returns to his tea, snuggling down into his chair. He sits quietly with Ion as the sky changes colors around them, not needing words to feel right at home.


End file.
